


Out of the blue

by TJLC_Johnlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, At least not physically, F/M, First Kiss, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I will add tags as I go, Jealous Sherlock, John doesn't hurt Sherlock, Light Angst, M/M, Mary is not that bad in this one, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Sherlock and John will have their Happy Ending, What should have happened after Sherlock's return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:43:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TJLC_Johnlockian/pseuds/TJLC_Johnlockian
Summary: Sherlock returns two years after his alleged death and hopes to finally reunite with John. He has thought a lot about how their Reunion would turn out. He never would have believed it would turn out quite like this though.





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock looked out the Window of his room at the Holmes mansion and heaved a sigh. It was going to rain today. Fitting, he thought. The day he was finally going to go back to London and it was about to rain.  
The grey clouds were a constant companion of Sherlock's since he left London. Since he left John. John Watson, his companion, conductor of light. His friend. His John. His ... no, he was not allowed to think that way. John Watson was not his in any way. And he never will be, Sherlock thought grimly. Yes, that’s right! John Watson was not gay and anyway Sherlock was married to his work.

What the hell was he doing, thinking of John being his anyway. Sentiment. So stupid, so ridiculous, so ... weak. It must be his age. Sherlock was getting older and with every year he allowed himself to let his guard down more and more.

Never in a million years would Sherlock have thought that he would once give up everything for another person, only for the knowledge that they are save.  
Why did he even care so much? It was not even like John was his family! And even then he could say with confidence, that he would not so readily have given up his life for Mycroft.  
He would have though. Given up his life for Mycroft that is. But not as willingly, as proudly even, as he did for John. And deep down Sherlock knew the difference, knew why he cared so much about John. Even more so than for anyone else he had ever loved.  
And there it was. The answer. He loved him. He, the great Sherlock Holmes, who took pride in calling himself a sociopath and thus distancing himself from any and all human feelings, loved John Watson with all his heart. What a great irony that was.

Mycroft used to warn him about these sorts of things: "Sentiment is not an advantage Sherlock!". "Love is a defect found on the losing side". And oh how right he was. Sherlock would never admit this out loud - he hated when Mycroft was right, but it didn’t change anything for the fact that it was true. Sentiment was not an advantage. Sherlock was reminded of that everyday.

The best proof could be found at his line of work. Love had always been a vicious motivator. The most murders were caused by an act of Love.

Before he met John, Sherlock never quite understood why people would go through so much trouble to end someone's life, just because of some chemical defect. Where was their logical thinking? What good would it do them if they killed their partner’s affair, if they ended up in Prison afterwards anyway! And it certainly would not give them back the missing love of their partners. It just didn’t make sense.

That’s what Sherlock had thought anyway. Before he met John. Because now he could understand. He could understand it very well even. All those women John wasted the time with dating. If Sherlock was an insensitive arse to everyone else, he took great joy in being an insufferable git to them even more. He just couldn’t stand them. They were all so offensive with their boring personalities. It was like they competed for the price of the dullest girlfriend. And John didn’t even seem to mind. He actually _liked_ them, which was the most infuriating thing of it all.

Sherlock knew it wasn’t all about their boring personalities though. He could have cared less about their low IQs, if they were any other person in the street. But the fact that John dated them, liked them even, always filled him with such a rage, that he actually wanted to make them hurt. He wanted to make them hurt even more than he did, when he saw John smiling at them with his stupid flirty smile that always meant he would take them to bed that same night.  
Sherlock hated that smile. And he hated whoever it was directed at. And he hated that sour aftertaste it left in his mouth when he saw the effect that smile had on the women.

God, why was Sherlock even thinking about that right now? He should be getting ready!  
Sherlock turned away from the window and took one last look around the room. He didn’t have any belongings he needed to pack before he left. Only the three piece suit he was already wearing and his Belstaff. Ahh it felt good to finally put it back on. He felt more like himself whenever he wore it. That coat had become a part of him somehow and he was acutely aware of its absence, whenever he could not wear it. It was kind of like his own battle uniform, it seemed to boost his confidence kind of. And well, it worked extraordinarily for dramatic effect.

Sherlock smiled to himself and closed the door to the room that had functioned as his hiding place for the last few weeks, when he still had to recover from his so called "excursion" to the east.

Mycroft's car already waited outside, when Sherlock finally made his way down the stairs. Without another look back, he stepped into the car and told the man behind the wheel to drive off. He didn’t need to give the man any directions. Mycroft had already told him where to go and so Sherlock just leaned back in his seat und watched the landscape pass him by.  
He was not sad for one bit that he would now leave this place where he had spent his whole childhood. The place he had once called home. When he still naively thought home was a place. He knew better now. Home was where his heart was. And his heart belonged to John. He would see John again. And he would finally go home.

 

~***~

 

The driver didn’t stop at Baker Street. Sherlock noticed this only when he realized they had halted at a whole different part of London. It didn’t happen often that Sherlock Holmes got confused, but he had been stuck in his mind palace for most of the car ride and had not been focussing on his sorroundings at all. He had been ensconsed in plotting a scheme of how to surprise John. It would be a surprise for him, no doubt about that! John thought Sherlock had died that day he threw himself off the roof of St. Barts. And even though John was pretty damn smart, Sherlock was confident that John would not have figured out that it had all just been a clever trick.  
The car had parked right in front of a fancy hotel that Sherlock remembered having once visited on a case with John about poisened food.

“The Landmark“ it said in cursive Letters on the canopy. Sherlock remembered it being a very expensive Restaurant. Why would John, who thought Jumpers were a fitting attire for any occasion and who always made a fuss about overpriced clothes and food, go to a place such as this? It didn’t make any sense.  
Never one to pass up a great mystery, Sherlock got out of the car and took a double take of himself in the window reflection. He looked good enough, he thought. Even though he had slimmed even further than before and now looked actually a bit unhealthy and had a few colourful bruises on his face, he would probably still look better than the majority of the residents at the Hotel Restaurant. John would be at the Restaurant. That was for certain. He wouldn’t be able to afford spending even one night at the Hotel. And the drive to Baker Street from here was about 12 minutes. John wouldn’t spend his night at a Hotel that expensive, if he could easily get home. So, the Restaurant it was.

Sherlock turned around to the Driver one last time to make sure the man had not just gotten the address wrong or simply took a small break before driving Sherlock to his planned destination. The driver didn’t even look at Sherlock though. Without a word of goodbye, the man headed off into the night. Mycroft had probably warned the driver of Sherlock possibly getting cold feet and ordering him to turn around and go home.  
Admittedly Sherlock did hesitate on the pavement for a second. Without a driver to rescue him now, Sherlock just drew back his shoulders and sucked in a deep breath. He forced his frantic heart to calm down and his hands to stop shaking. He hadn’t been this nervous since his stand-off with Moriarity. A bit not good to compare his Reunion with John to the day he paid him farewell probably. No, this day would not bring any suffer and tears, (well tears of joy maybe), because it would be Sherlock Holmes and John Watson again. The Detective and his Blogger. John and Sherlock against the rest of the World. Just like the old days.  
At that Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. All of a sudden he couldn’t wait to finally see John again. What was he doing, standing in front of a Hotel and nearly having a panic attack. No, he would be fine. John might be angry at first, for Sherlock having fooled him and leaving him behind. John reminded Sherlock of a german Shepherd in so many ways. They were always extremely hurt when they were left behind as well. But that was not the point. The most important trait John had to offer was that he would always forgive Sherlock in the end. He was extremely loyal - again, just like a german Shepherd - and Sherlock knew John would do anything for him. Just like Sherlock would, and had done in fact, for John. They needed each other like they needed air. Sherlock had been made painfully aware of that during his time away from his Doctor. With renewed confidence, Sherlock strode into the Hotel and walked through the foyer in the direction of the Restaurant.

 

“Good Evening Sir! Do you have a reservation?“

 

Sherlock let his eyes roam over the young Maitre D‘ behind the podium. Somewhere between late twenties and early thirties, daughter of the Hotel owner, does not like her Job, but needs the money to pay for a private arts school. Has two cats and just broke up with her boyfriend due to unfaithfulness. On her side, not his.

 

Sherlock smiled: “I do! I am to be dining with my friend. I’m afraid I arrived a little late, so he must have already checked in.“

 

“Very well Sir, what is his name?“

 

“Watson“

 

“Watson, hmmm ... let me just check. “ The young woman traced the names of all the Reservations with her finger and finally halted, then tapped one name on her list.

 

“Here it is! Reservation for two. My my, you are almost a whole hour late!“ The Maitre D‘ seemed shocked by this, Sherlock could even see a flash of disapproval in her face, but it disappeared quickly and the woman wore her perfectly schooled neutral expression once more.

 

Sherlock just answered with another fake smile and thanked her for her help. He then stepped further into the Restaurant and took a look around. He didn’t stop at anyone in particular to deduce, his only priority now to find his best friend.

After some time looking around, Sherlock’s eyes finally set on the back of a rather short, but sturdy man with grey hair. His posture was exceptionally straight and there was a cane, resting next to his chair on the floor.  
Ah, so his psychosomatic limp had returned. It seems without Sherlock, John didn’t get to enjoy enough danger and action. Sherlock had to change that.

In four long strides he crossed the distance between the entrance and John’s table and was just about to call out what would have probably been quite a terrible line to inform his friend he was not dead, when he noticed that John, in fact, was not alone. Sherlock knew that of course, since he wasn’t stupid enough to assume John would come to such a fancy place alone. Also Sherlock’s assumption had been confirmed by the Maitre d’s comment about a Reservation for two.  
Of course if John would equal Sherlock in intelligence and perceptiveness, the Reservation could have been made by John for John and himself. But Sherlock knew that John was clueless about Sherlock’s state. Thus the limp.

So yes, Sherlock had expected someone to occupy the seat opposite John. Probably some dull girlfriend who John would bed a couple of times and then grow bored of. But no, the woman sitting opposite John was clearly someone else. Because, as much as he hated to admit, John’s date was decidedly not dull. John had met her at the clinic, she was one of the nurses working there, this much was obvious. So she was used to receiving orders from John. Her body language showed though, that she wore the pants in their relationship. Quite telling about John actually, he had always been the submissive to Sherlock in their friendship as well.  
Sherlock also had a feeling that this woman was no stranger to dangerous situations. No innocent naive nurse at all then. She seemed to be a contradiction in herself, just like John. And as far as Sherlock could tell, they got along really well. Sherlock tried not to feel hurt by this. He wished John all his happiness and if John was happy because he had found a woman who loved him as much as Sherlock did and who John actually loved back, then who was Sherlock to stand in their way.

So Sherlock had to make a decision here. He could still leave, John would never know he was actually alive and he would have a shot at a normal, domestic life with this mystery woman he clearly liked a lot. Or Sherlock could take the last step, finally reunite with John and they will continue their life at Baker Street as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t a tough decision to make. Sure, Sherlock would do everything to make John happy, even if it meant leaving him forever, but Sherlock just knew that he was the only one who could not only make John happy, but also make him feel every emotion there was. Let him experience a full life and give him everything he needed. After all, Sherlock was the one who knew John the best. Again, the limp proved that.

Having made his decision, Sherlock took his final step forward and turned around to face John properly. What he saw there stopped him dead in his tracks. John’s appearance hadn’t very much changed, he hadn’t grown one bit, his posture still screamed military, he did groom himself better now, but his eyes still held the same navy blue beauty in them and his tan had only paled a little bit. What had changed rather noticeably was John’s mouth. Well not his mouth per se, but what was around his mouth or rather above. Sitting on that soft upper lip was now a crown of coarse blonde hair. John had a mustache. What the hell?

 

Sherlock was suddenly aware that he had been staring for quite to long without saying anything. He slowly let his gaze drag up John’s face until he finally reached his eyes. John’s full attention was on Sherlock now, probably had been since Sherlock had faced him. There was a mixture of shock and confusion in John’s eyes and the way his brows furrowed. John’s mouth hung open in a silent “o“ and he seemed to have forgotten to breathe altogether. Sherlock asserted all this in 0.86 seconds.

 

“I know my appearance here is a little unexpected John, but you really don’t need to hold your breath!“, Sherlock said with a smile, that he hoped looked rather teasing than nervous.  
After having been prompted to breathe, John did just that. Rather loud and quick, but at least the purple from his face seemed to vanish with every gasp that came out of his mouth now.

 

“You-“ _gasp_ , “How...?-“ _swallow, deep breath,_ “You’re dead!“

  
“Well John, I always knew your observational skills aren’t the best, but surely a man in the medical field should be able to tell the difference between a dead man and one that is very much alive.“, again the humour did nothing to take the awkward out of the situation. John did not smile or giggle or even show a hint of mirth. He just continued staring at Sherlock as if he didn’t believe what was happening. He probably didn’t.  
Sherlock tried for a different approach.

 

“Okay I reckon this must be a bit much to take in right now and you are probably confused. I will explain everything once we’re back at Baker Street and can have a proper chat, but for now the most important thing is“ Sherlock glanced at the floor, then took a deep breath. He fixed his eyes on John’s once again and continued:

“I’m not dead! I never was and it was of utmost importance to make everyone believe I was.“ John frowned. He nodded. “Yeah ... Yeah, all right.“ He continued nodding, as if he had just figured something out. Sherlock was a bit worried he was having a panic attack. Then John smiled. He looked up at Sherlock, shook his head and then broke out into a manic grin. “John ... Are you okay?“, the woman sitting opposite him asked. She hadn’t made a sound since Sherlock had arrived and now, that Sherlock actually paid attention to her, he knew why. John had told her about Sherlock. She knew it all. The way she looked at John now, the way she obviously avoided Sherlock said it all. She must know why Sherlock was back and she seemed to be gearing up for a fight, even if John didn’t know yet. This woman really was the cleverest of John’s conquests so far. Sherlock couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of solitude for her.

John cleared his throat. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine! Yeah ... just ... fine!“ He still had that manic expression on and it seemed to get even worse, cause now the corner of his mouth began to twitch. “Isn’t it just great, that after two years of NOTHING, my best friend actually came back on the one day that for once was supposed to be not about him?!“ John had screamed the middle of that sentence and was now scooting back his chair roughly and moving to stand right in front of Sherlock. The restaurant has gone awfully quiet and Sherlock could feel hundreds of eyes following the scene right in the middle of it all. 

 

“Honey, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little bit?“, John’s girlfriend had also vacated her seat and was now standing behind John, tugging on his arm lightly and trying to turn his attention away from Sherlock. John just ignored her.

 

“Do you have any idea what it was like? Watching you jump? Seeing you on that pavement, not feeling any pulse? Hm? Thinking you were ...“ John’s voice broke and he winced. He closed his eyes for a moment and then soldiered on. “Thinking you were dead!“ He whispered. Sherlock didn’t know how to answer. He knew John must have been in pain, but seeing his friend close to tears right now was something Sherlock was totally unprepared for. John shouldn’t still be in pain. Sherlock was back now, everything was good. Why was John still suffering? Where did Sherlock go wrong?  
Maybe it was the images of the events that were just too much for him. Of course, John had PTSD, he was bound to be suffering when he was confronted with trauma. And even the presence of Sherlock seemed to be trigger already for John to be reliving that moment over and over again when his friend had committed suicide right in front of him. Even if it all had been a ruse, the experience must have felt very real and probably still was in John’s mind. Sherlock wouldn’t be able to change that with an explanation right now. Maybe not ever.  
  
Suddenly Sherlock’s throat seemed to be way to small and his jaw began to feel way too heavy. He had to swallow several times before he could finally speak again.  
  
“I’m really sorry John, I should have realized! Coming here was a bad idea. I don’t want you to be hurting, in the end, that’s all it ever was about. Don’t worry, I won’t be a burden to you anymore. I wish you all the happiness in the world, John. You deserve it!“, and with that Sherlock turned around and left.  
He heard a loud gasp from behind him and knew John was about to call after him, but whatever he was going to say, it was drowned out by the people in the entryway and the cars on the street as Sherlock opened the door and made his exit.  
It was better this way! John could finally be happy now and Sherlock would just go back to his life before John. He would be able to focus fully on his work again and wasn’t that uplifting! But Sherlock knew he couldn’t lie to himself. He would miss John terribly and the first months would be _Hell_! But he had made it through the past two years without John and he would just continue his life until he didn’t have to miss him anymore. He just hoped that day would actually come.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft came to visit Sherlock two weeks after the dreadful incident at the __Landmark.__ ~~~~Mycroft had tried calling him that very day and a couple of times after that, but Sherlock had just turned off his phone. He didn‘t want to deal with his Brother and the "I told you so's" that would undoubtedly make an appearance in their conversation. Sherlock wasn‘t ready for that. He also wasn‘t ready for the pity that Mrs Hudson or Lestrade would try to hide, but nevertheless regard him with. They would probably go out their way to be overly careful with him, so if not to remind him of his broken heart and the person responsible for it.  
No, Sherlock wasn‘t ready for any of that. 

Which is why he currently pouted on his couch, with his back turned to Mycroft and pointedly ignored everything his Brother had said for the last half hour. After a few last attempts at having a grown-up conversation with his baby brother, Mycroft let out a deep sigh and heft himself up from John's chair. When Mycroft had first come in and occupied John's chair, with the audacity of totally disregarding the fact that Sherlock never let _anyone_ sit in it, that had been the only time that Sherlock had acknowledged his brother. Sherlock had simply glared at the government official and then continued to ignore everything the latter had said. 

After a while, Mycroft finally gave up and made his way to the door. With one last depreciating look and a sigh aimed in Sherlock's direction, the intruder turned around and left. Sherlock listened to the footsteps descending the stairs to make sure his brother didn't decide to come back and disturb him further. Not that there was anything to disturb him at. Sherlock wasn't doing anything. He actually hadn't even left the flat since that horrible evening. 

The consequences of that were that he was starting to run out of stuff though. He didn't have much to eat in the flat and he had used last of the milk two days ago. He didn't mind. He wasn't eating much anyway and even tea wasn't the same anymore. Now everything just tasted  _dull._ Mrs Hudson sometimes came by and brought Sherlock a cup of tea and some biscuits. After a while even that had lost its taste and Sherlock didn't so much as look at it these days. Mrs Hudson never commented on that. Sherlock probably would have ignored her anyway. Still, he was thankful to have her at least. He had given her quite the fright, when he had first come back from being dead. She had almost hit him with her pan before he could tell her that it was alright, no he was not a ghost, and yes he was very much still alive and had been, in fact, the whole time. 

After the initial shock, Mrs Hudson had been quite understanding. She hadn't re-rented the flat to anyone after Sherlock had been away and John had moved out. Thus Sherlock was able to move back in the very same day he had officially been back. He was a bit disappointed to hear that John had not been living at Baker Street for a while, but he supposed it had been naive of him to expect him to. Clearly John had been trying to move on, finding himself a new woman, maybe even settling down. Sherlock hadn't asked Lestrade if John had still been working with him, even after Sherlock had gone. He had been a fool to have thought everything would just go on as it were, when he came back. Now it was all so different. Baker Street felt so empty without John's everyday presence. Most of his stuff was still here, so that it might look to an untrained eye, as if John were only temporarily out of the flat, gone to the shops or simply at work. But Sherlock knew John wouldn't come back. He had never been a person of many belongings, seemingly always ready to leave. Maybe that was a habit he had picked up on his army days. _Maybe he had always planned on leaving,_ a dark voice in Sherlock's head had retorted. No, John definitely had left. His chair was still there, opposite Sherlock's, but his favorite mug was gone. Same thing with his favorite jumpers. He had left most of his Shirts, but his socks and underwear were gone. There was also only one coat hanging on the hanger now. No Jacket and no brown shoes. There weren't any cheap crime novels by the fireplace and the James Bond DVD collection wasn't sitting on top of the DVD player as it used to. And there was most definitely not the SIG-Sauer P226R in John's desk drawer. John might have left a lot behind, but the things he took were the things of importance to him. The things he wanted,  _needed,_ to live with. 

Sherlock sighed. It was hard to not reach out to John. To ask him to come back, just forget everything and just  _come back._  But he wasn't going to do that. He had made the first move by telling John that he was back and very much liked for him to be his best friend again. For them to be _them_ again. It was John's turn now to answer. If he wanted to have Sherlock in his life, he would have to say so. Sherlock didn't want to be John's friend because John was lonely or because John needed a distraction. Sherlock wanted to be John's friend because John wanted him to be. Of course Sherlock didn't want to be JUST his friend but that would have to be enough for now. Everything else they would figure out later. First Sherlock had to know if John even wanted him back. 

 

 ~***~

 

The waiting was agony. Sherlock had been sure that John would turn up as soon as he had calmed down. He knew that John had been reasonably upset, but he wouldn't have thought it would take him quite this long to calm down. It was three weeks now since the incident and Sherlock still hadn't heard a word from John yet. Sherlock's phone number hadn't changed and he was certain John knew he had moved back into Baker Street. It couldn't be for the lack of knowing how to reach Sherlock then. It was that John simply didn't want to.

Or so Sherlock thought. Which was why the detective found himself totally off guard at the sight of one "John Watson" standing in front of his door.  

 "John!", Sherlock said rather stupidly. It was fairly obvious that the man standing before Sherlock was in fact the blond Blogger. Sherlock needed to remind himself of that fact anyway.  
  
"Sherlock, we need to talk!"   
  
"Yes!", Sherlock nodded his head eagerly.  _Anything to have you by my side again._

"May I?", John motioned towards the sitting room. Sherlock hadn't realized that the both of them had still been standing in the entryway to  ~~their~~ _his_  flat. 

"Of course John! Do come in!" 

Sherlock opened the door further in invitation and then turned his back to the door, aiming for the kitchen. 

"Do you want something to drink? Tea?", he asked, already busying himself with the tea bags. 

"Sure!"

John had already taken a seat in what used to be his chair, when Sherlock came back with two steaming mugs and a plate of biscuits. He had found them sitting in his cupboard next to a carton of milk. Mrs Hudson must have gone shopping for him this morning. He hadn't even noticed. Sherlock made a silent note to thank her later. 

 

"So, what did you want to talk about John?" 


	3. Chapter 3

John looked up at Sherlock with what could only be described as a hesitant smile.   
  
"Well for starters I would like to know what the hell you were thinking. Jumping off that roof and then leaving us all thinking you were dead!" It was clear John tried to stay calm while saying that. It seemed like this issue was still a sore point for him. Sherlock could hardly blame him.

"Fair question", Sherlock acknowledged. "I had not really had a choice, John! It was either me taking my own life or you being killed and I could not let them do that! So I made a plan with Mycroft on how to sketch my own suicide. We just had to make sure that it would work, so I could not tell you anything and risk for it all to be exposed!"

 John drew his brows together and leaned slightly forward in his seat. "So you're telling me you didn't let me in on your plan because you think I am a blabbermouth?"   
  
"Yes John, very good! That is precisely what I meant!", Sherlock said, grinning and nodding his head in approval. This was going much better than he expected. John caught on right from the start and they were finally back on the same page.   
John was laughing now. Great! Now they could leave those awful two years of loneliness behind and get back to their usual companionship. Sherlock was exhilarated.  

"Of all the reasons I had imagined, this is probably the most ridiculous and insulting one you could have given me!"   
  
Sherlock looked at John as if he had been slapped. Why was John angry all of a sudden? He thought all had been well. John had understood the necessity of keeping the death a secret and he  _was_ a blabbermouth. That was simply a fact, nothing personal and therefore insulting about it. So there shouldn't have been a problem, right? Wrong! Because John seemed so angry now, that the tremor in his right hand had appeared and he was clenching and unclenching it repeatedly while trying to even out is breath.   
  
"I can't fucking believe you, Sherlock!" John's voice was so low that it came out more of a growl. "2 Years you were gone, God knows where, doing whatever, while I fucking  _mourned_   your death! Two years Sherlock! And then you come bouncing back as if nothing had happened." You don't give me an explanation or a reason, just tell me you're not dead and then you fucking leave me again! FOR FUCK'S SAKE SHERLOCK!"   
  
Sherlock was taken aback at John's sudden outburst. He opened his mouth in want of justifying himself, but couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation. He closed his mouth again feeling rather stupid. "John I don't know what to tell you..." 

"I know." John sounded calm now, defeated, as if he had lost all his strength in this ridiculous argument.   
"Jesus I just...", John broke off, then shook his head. There was a small pause before he started talking again.   
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you!"

John got up from his chair and made to leave. 

 _No! No! No!_ John couldn‘t leave now! If he left like this he might never come back! Sherlock couldn‘t let that happen! 

"Look, don‘t get me wrong, I really am glad that you‘re back, but I don‘t think this is ... You know a lot has changed since you-"

Sherlock got up on a whim and grabbed John by the wrist to forcefully turn him around. 

"I don‘t care about your new _girlfriend_  or your new flat or your _stupid_ new Job! You **need** me John!"

John's brows drew together and he made to defend himself, but Sherlock interrupted him again.   
  
"Your life is empty without me! It's  _ordinary!_ "   
Sherlock spat the last word in disgust. He had gotten John where he wanted him. Outraged, in need to defend himself, but unable to ignore the truth. He knew it was true what Sherlock was saying and now he wouldn't be able to ignore it any longer. 

"Well, maybe I am just an ordinary man and an ordinary life fits me just fine."

"Oh don't be stupid, John! You don't really believe that!"  
  
"Oh yeah? What the fuck would you know?!" John was growling again, he seemed to do that a lot with Sherlock around. Sherlock couldn't stop himself from thinking that it was sort of sexy. He had always liked the dangerous John, the soldier who never hesitated to throw himself head first into battle. 

John must have felt the changing of the mood in the room, for he had calmed somewhat and was regarding Sherlock with a strange expression. Almost as if to ... _deduce_ him. Oh God! Sherlock's pupils weren't dilated, were they? And Sherlock's hand was still on John's arm, but John's fingers had turned inward to Sherlock's own wrist and were now gently pressing down. Sherlock could even feel his pulse spiking himself and to make matters worse he even started panting a little bit.  _Stupid, Stupid!_ Sherlock had always been able to keep his attraction to John safely concealed. He had never allowed himself to even  _think_ about it with anyone else in the room! And now, John of all people, had to catch him in a moment of weakness? Sherlock did not want to think about the irony of that!

He let go of John's arm and tried to turn away, but John's grip simply intensified. He could feel his cheeks starting to warm. 

"Sherlock are you ... _blushing?_ ", John asked in disbelieve. 

"Of course not, don't be stupid, John!", Sherlock scoffed, while blushing even harder. 

"You don't need to be embarrassed Sherlock, you look lovely like this!" John grinned and placed his hand on Sherlock's heated face.   
  
_Easier said than done!_ , Sherlock thought. He had to suppress the urge to close his eyes, but couldn't quite stop himself from leaning into John's gentle touch. He could feel John's other hand slowly sliding up his arm until it was resting on his neck where John used subtle pressure to draw Sherlock closer to him. A few inches from Sherlock's face John finally stopped and just stood still for a while. Sherlock held his breath. He didn't know what he should expect, but he didn't dare to hope. The waiting was torture though.   
  
"John!", Sherlock whined. It came out quite desperate, but he couldn't care less because John regarded him with the sweetest smile. It said _you're wonderful!_ and  _Thank you for coming back to me!_    
And suddenly they were kissing. Just like that. It started out slowly. Just a brush of lips, barely even a touch. But then Sherlock tilted his head _just so_ and that seemed to do it. John deepened the kiss and Sherlock all but lost himself in it. When their tongues met they both moaned. Sherlock would have been embarrassed with the noises he made, but he was way to absorbed in the feeling of John. John's lips that were nibbling and biting on Sherlock's lips, John's hands that were drawing Sherlock impossibly closer and John's body pressing unyieldingly into Sherlock.  
Sherlock held onto John's body for dear life. He had the strange feeling that his legs would give out if he let go now. 

After a blissful eternity they both drew back to fill their lungs with some much needed air.   
  
"God you're amazing!" Sherlock couldn't stop the flush that spread over his face. It was ridiculous that he still reacted this strongly to John's compliments. 

He gave John a shy smile and brought their bodies back together. They stood like this for a long while, just holding each other, basking in each others closeness. 

Later they would talk, Sherlock would tell John how and why exactly he had faked his own death, John would tell Sherlock that his girlfriend had broken up with him because she knew and they would say to each other everything they have wanted to say, but then never did. Later they would talk.  
But for now their bodies said quite enough.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me this long to finish this, but I have been very stressed lately and I didn't have the strength to finish it until now. I hope you still enjoyed reading it though! If you did, please leave some Kudos and Comments. Thank you for reading! :)


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